Twins
by boots234
Summary: Perhaps there are others that understand *no pairings as such*


Disclaimer: they belong to square enix of course

ok, well this is my first proper piece of writing here though it's really just drabble again TwT just really long drabble.  
I know there are some issues with tenses but i hirts my brain to continually try to work them out lol so if you notice anything it'd be cool if you could point it out :D  
enjoy  
xxx

Twins – Perhaps there _are_ some people that understand.

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No one bothered to talk to them anymore. Everyone had learned long ago that there was no point; they didn't respond to anyone…at least not in a way that mattered. Some had tried to reach out to them, to crack the painfully fake exterior they held, but when they tried they would receive identical smiles and an obligatory polite response; but nothing more.

The twins spent every lesson together. Every lunchtime, free period and even every detention together. They were never apart. Weekends were spent in their shared apartment doing various chores or a new assignment from college or just sitting together; existing. All their time was spent together, ignoring the whispers. They were the freaks, the outcasts, the nobodies. They frightened others with their indifference. Sometimes that quiet fear would turn into something nastier, people don't like things they don't understand and out of fear they would try to drive it away. But the twins stood through the confrontations, letting them happen and pass by. It didn't matter; nothing did, as long as they had each other. And so the whispers were ignored, no one understood and everyone had given up trying. They carried on.

Alone.

"Not alone." They would constantly remind themselves, "We have each other." You can't be alone if there are two of you. So why could they still feel it? That crushing, suffocating, bone-weary ache they'd always lived with. It wasn't exactly a feeling; more the absence of one; an emptiness. An absence that they tried to fill with each other, steadfast in the belief that that was all they needed.

It hadn't always been just them, they had had a friend once, or at least someone they had let closer than most. She was a small, pale girl who preferred to communicate in pictures rather than words, and they loved her for it, in their own way. A language of colour and shape expressed so much more than words ever could. Letters, sentences, phrases couldn't even begin to comprehend emotion; especially one such as theirs. Colours got a lot closer. They felt much more; alive.

She would let them watch her paint, draw, create without a mention of their clasped hands or the way they would talk to each other through their eyes or how late it would get and no one would call for them, even just to see where they were.

She had once asked them to draw something for her. At their inquisitive stare; she had explained that it would help her understand. And, after a moments hesitation, they had each grabbed the same shade of gold and each drew half a heart, joining them at them bottom. Striking down the centre they drew a key in silver, the smudge from their hands giving it a slight glow. Looking at their work there seemed to be a silent agreement by both of them that it wasn't enough. At the bottom of the paper they took every crayon, every pencil, pen and colour of paint and simply plastered it on. With no thought to composition or the mess they were making; they continued. As they worked their hands began to ache and their skin cracked under dry paint and their eyes began to sting from the cloud that had formed around them.

When they'd finished they'd both dropped their materials and sat back rubbing the back of a hand across their eyes. Each passed a hand through their hair, one blonde and windswept and the other brown and spiked and sighed; satisfied. The little blonde girl had leaned over to look at the careful composition at the top down to the crash of colours at the bottom. A perfect black circle ended the picture in the centre of the colours and it was this that drew her attention the most. While the heart an key spoke of meaning and memories and the colours of emotion, good and bad, that circle, the pure unyielding black seemed to draw in the rest. It pulled and gripped at the swirls of colour and emotion, and dragged at meaning and understanding until they meant nothing.

She hadn't commented, merely nodded as if she understood; at least partly. And as they watched, she reached forward holding each one of their free hands and leaned in till all three foreheads were touching. Unconsciously the twins had gripped to her hands tight, their breathing laboured as they struggled to understand the connection they felt towards her. She had squeezed back, feeling the tautness in the air and trying to offer comfort.

After a while she had sat back, collected her supplies and carried on, the air considerably lighter around them. The twins never really believed she understood. For how could anyone possibly understand what it was like to have the other half of yourself as a separate entity.

But they loved her all the same. There was something about her presence that helped them to forget their loneliness. She was the mother they never had. The sister they could share.

She had left eventually, more proof that the only thing that was constant and reliable was the other. With a kiss on each cheek and a small wave she had left them with her sketchbook.

They didn't look at it for a long time.

They slipped back into their usual routine of ignoring the surrounding world, and if it was possible, they were more distant than before.

It was early afternoon sometime in mid-winter, cool sunbeams falling in through their window, when one of them had knocked their leaving present off the desk they'd placed it on so many months ago, a few of the loose pages fluttering out. The brunette had picked up the lose sheets, carefully placing them back. He stood staring at the book for several minutes. His twin didn't have to look to see the uncertainty and longing in his eyes. He could tell by the tense line of his back that the brunette was fighting some internal battle. The blonde knew his brother wouldn't want to do anything that would hurt or upset him; that he was waiting for approval. It had always been this way, even when they were little; the brunette would hold his wishes and dreams close, refusing to show his brother for fear of his rejection. Instead he would seek to please the blonde, to help _him_ achieve what _he_ wanted. And each time the blonde had had to reprimand his brother sharply, explaining quite calmly, that he was an idiot…but that he loved him anyway. He understood his brother's reluctance to upset him though, he would rather tear his very soul out before disappointing his brother; they were all they had, simple as that. It still hurt though, to know that even between them the trust was not complete. There was a gap that even they could not fill; no matter how close they were. Exasperated, he crossed the room and put a hand on his brother's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The brunette flashed him a rather sheepish grin seeing the look in his brother's eyes, and they both settled on the floor to see what their friend had given them.

Each page was filled from every corner with drawings of plants, places, people, some they vaguely recognised but each picture was blurred and indistinct so they were never quite sure what they were looking at; or who. Their little friend had art down to a damn near photogenic accuracy and so there was no doubt, that the unfocused pictures must have been intentional.

"Perhaps it's a style?" one of them suggested brightly.

"Or perhaps she can't remember their faces." The other mumbled darkly. Reaching the last page both gasped. Identical blue eyes met and returned to the page a hand ghosting across the surface, quivering slightly, brushing across the figures painted there. Unlike the rest of the book, these were detailed, sharp.

All four figures had their backs to them and their hands interlaced. The two middle figures, they realised, were none other than themselves. Identical in height (short to everyone else) they wore the same jacket and jeans except one was monotone, the black and white checked on the jacket and one was coloured with navy blues and royal reds. The only difference anyone ever saw in them was their hair, which for almost identical twins, was surprisingly different. One was short and blonde and swept to the side like he'd been sleeping in the same position every night, the other was slightly longer, chocolate brown and spiked in such a way that it could only be described as 'gravity-defying.' All of this captured, with picture perfect accuracy, across the page. As for the other two figures, both of them felt a pang of longing and regret when they looked at them that they did not understand. That unbearable ache had risen up to its fullest, threatening to pull them under.

But they didn't look away. They couldn't.

It was as if their eyes had been starved of those figures for so long that they were insistent on drinking in every detail. The boy clasping the blonde's hand was sickeningly skinny with a shock of fiery red hair. He was wearing a long, dark trench coat and appeared to be looking down at his companion and though the blonde could neither see his eyes, nor his expression, he fancied, from the soft tilt of the redheads shoulders and his relaxed stance…that he was smiling.

The boy that clasped the brunette's hand, however, was vastly different. Although taller than the twins, he still seemed rather low down, as if a great weight was pressing down on him; a past that had pushed a guilty burden onto his shoulders. He wore only a plain vest and jeans and had a somewhat superior air about him; if not for the crushing weight that appeared to be forced on him he would have looked almost smug. The brunette could visualise the swagger in his step and the arrogant smirk on his face with an accuracy that scared and confused him. Their artist friend had caught his hair beautifully though. Caught in a soft breeze, it shimmered like water, its silver sheen stopping at shoulder length, reflecting the colours around it. Scrawled across the bottom of the picture, in writing their friend had jokingly named 'artist's handwriting,' were the words _They understand too. Love you, Namine._

Neither of them knew who began to cry first, only that in a matter of seconds, both were clutching to each other, letting harsh, racking sobs fill the air. The sketchbook was held tightly between them; adding the tears that fell to its collection. They wept for their first true friend; one they had neither appreciated nor paid enough attention to, the only one to accept them with a smile; even if it had seemed sad sometimes. She had never complained or whined about their presence; just let it be. And only now, it seemed, the painful realisation came that she had been hiding her own loneliness…or they hadn't bothered to look, too absorbed with their own darkness and pain to even glance at the only one they'd ever called friend.

And they couldn't even take it back.

She was gone. The resentment that had flared up at that, that had stubbornly kept them from looking at her leaving gift was suddenly realised for what it was; selfish. Selfish that they had realised she was trying to move on with her life and they had hated her for it. Selfish that they hadn't even bothered to ask where she was going, or why. But they couldn't fix it; not now. It was back to just the two of them.

Alone.

Reminded of that ancient ache, it rose with such an intensity it was all they could do to clutch to each other tighter and let their soft whimpers echo around them.

When the faint light of dawn peered meekly through the clouds they slowly picked each other up and pulled each other back together, as they knew they needed to if they were to continue their bland, monotonous non-existence. And so they reigned in their sorrows, took regret and pain and locked them up tight, otherwise the people that bothered to look would ask questions, and if they asked questions, they'd get answers they wouldn't want. They'd seek to delve deeper; to understand. But again, they silently agreed, no one could. Namine had tried, but acceptance wasn't the same as understanding.

So they carried on.

It was comfortable. Nice. Fake. But it was constant. If they kept going through the motions then the feeling of emptiness would fade enough that it could be buried under the background noise of their daily life.

Time passed and they withdrew so far into themselves that they barely even talked to each other anymore, just communicated silently with their eyes, but even this was painful as it was the only place in their fake exterior that showed what they'd locked inside.

By chance one day, they chose to walk through the park home. It was this chance that would force the twins to break their restless cycle and send them hurtling into a future. They'd been walking straight, heads bent against a harsh wind. I was easier that way, they always walked straight to their destination at a hurried pace so they wouldn't have to see the people, the life, all around them. The light and laughter emblazoned on children as they discovered the world around them. The hearts of friends and lovers warm to each others glow. No, they kept their heads down and ignored everything else.

On this particular day however, the blonde noticed a flash of a very familiar red slide past in his peripheral. Eyes drawn to it, he whipped his head around. He would recognise that figure anywhere. He could not count the hours both he and his brother had spent memorizing that last picture in the back of Namine's sketchpad. How they had wracked their minds until it hurt, until their eyes were scratchy with exhaustion and their limbs heavy with fatigue, for even one memory of the mysterious figures.

Both had drawn a blank.

For a minute he had openly gawked, unaware of his brother pulling on his sleeve, he just stared at the figure that occupied his every thought. Noticing his brothers insistent tugging and being vaguely irritated by it he finally pulled him round to see for himself. The redhead had been chasing something and as he bent to pick it up they saw that it was a Frisbee, painted red and black and it look as if it had four…was that spikes?! Chortling at the idea, the blonde caught himself, surprised at his response. His brother would have been too had his heart not stopped at that very moment, when a second figure arrived; _the_ second figure. He was running gracefully toward the redhead; hair shimmering just like in the picture. His lips were pulled back into a smirk as he pushed his friend before he could properly retrieve the Frisbee; his inertia pulling him over. The redhead glared up at his amused friend before knocking him to the ground with his legs. Spluttering indignantly for a moment, the silver-haired boy, wrestled to remove his face from the dirt before flipping onto his back and simply lying there, eyes closed, breathing deeply. The redhead joined his meditative state and relaxed; content. The twins had watched for a few moments more, eyes raking in every last detail, before quietly slipping away.

After that day it quickly became part of their routine to sit and watch the two boys. Sometimes the redhead would bring his ridiculous Frisbee, on those days usually someone would end up on the ground; clutching whatever part of their body the Frisbee had maimed. Other days they would simply sit on one of the rusted benches and murmur to each other, the redhead with a cigarette pinched between his lips, the glowing tip jiggling slightly when he spoke. Everyday they watched; not quite sure what they were looking for.

On the third week of their new stalker-like routine (Curiosity they called it) they had arrived at the park to find…nothing. No fiery red or shimmering silver. Unprepared for the crushing disappointment in their routine, their masks slipped as they searched around them, the sadness and betrayal showing loud on their faces. They sat down on the grass heavily, taking comfort in the fact that the other felt the same. That the other would always understand. They would never be alone in that. Why, then, in this moment did they feel more lonely than ever before, sat there waiting, hoping that their…their what? These people weren't their friends, what did it matter to them that two people they'd never met hadn't turned up for them to watch them. … But they were messing with their _schedule _dammit! What right did they have to disappear when they were needed?...But needed for what? For what purpose had they altered their perfect, safe cycle?

"Why come everyday to watch strangers?" The question was so in line with their thoughts that it took the twins a few, bewildered seconds to realise the question was actually being posed _to_ them. With a gasp, both of them had spun round, identical pairs of eyes settling on their fixations.

It was the redhead that had spoken; his gruff voice still ringing in the blonde's memory. His twin however was busy staring up at the second figure that had accosted then. His silver hair was hanging forward slightly as he bent down to look at them and beneath it the brunette could see the glare he was being levelled with; filled with as much wariness and suspicion as the redhead's.

And for the first time, the twins saw their eyes.

In the picture they had had their backs to them and in the park they'd always been too far away to see clearly. The redhead supported two of the most startlingly green eyes the twins had ever seen, vivid and sharp; almost cat-like. His silver-haired companion, on the other hand, had hair much like his eyes; not to say they were silver, but that they resembled the water. They were filled and deep, the greens and blues swirling within them creating a clear aquamarine. But both fierce green and sea blue held something very familiar.

"We watch you because you have the same eyes," they answered in unison. For a moment, the newcomers looked dumbfounded, before with a small, disbelieving shake of his head, the silver-haired boy replied, "you must be mistaken; we look nothing alike." Both twins shook their heads, gaining confidence now that they'd had time to recover from their initial shock, "not just you two," one insisted.

"You have the same eyes as us too," the other said.

"Right, I'm tired of this bullshit. Either tells us what you mean or we'll report your stalker-asses." The silver-haired one looked uneasily between his loud-mouthed friend and the twins who were both staring up at them, looking like they were preparing themselves for their answer, as if it was something they didn't usually like to acknowledge. Glancing quickly at each other for support, the twins said, "You have the same loneliness…emptiness."

There ensued a very pregnant pause where no one spoke. The redhead rocked on his heels looking as if he didn't know if he wanted to punch something or burst into tears while the silver-haired boy just stood, unblinking, expressionless. And the twins sat and waited.

"What the fuck is that suppose to mean?" the redhead finally snarled, "You…you little shits. You don't…you can't just-"

"-I'm sorry." Three pairs of eyes shot up to stare at the silver-haired boy. For a moment it appeared he was apologizing for his fiery friend's behaviour, but his eyes were only locked onto one other.

"For what?" the brunette asked. The boy shrugged helplessly an almost hysterical expression on his face.

"I really have no idea, I just know it's important…that I've done something terrible and I can't take it back, but I need to apologise for it. I need you to know I'm sorry…it's just I _need_…I need-"

"I forgive you"

"What?"

"_I_ forgive _you_." The brunette smiled up at him, "Although I get the impression you really don't need forgiveness." Tentatively the silver-haired boy the smile with one of his own, relief evident in his eyes, but the redhead, who'd stayed silent throughout this exchange, decided it was his time to speak up.

"I don't need this crap; come on Riku." He growled gesturing to his silver-haired companion; dragging him along with him when he didn't move. The silver-haired boy (Riku, they supposed) looked back once, an unreadable expression on his face, before they both disappeared.

"What?" the blonde asked glancing at the fond expression on his twin's face.

"…Riku." he said, still smiling, "his name is Riku." The blonde smiled sadly, pleased at his brothers happiness, but he couldn't help the small pang of jealousy that spiked within him; the redhead hadn't even looked at him.

They continued to visit the park everyday, the blonde slightly more reluctant than his brother, but both held a secret desire to see the two again. But as each day passed and the two still didn't show, they grew less hopeful. They knew what they looked like, even had a name for one of them, but that wasn't enough to search for them, so they just turned up everyday, and everyday they gradually grew less expectant.

Finally, the brunette had gotten angry. With his eyes stinging he cried, "where _are_ they?! They can't just _leave_…not after…not after." A choked sob escaped his throat which he hurriedly tried to muffle from his brother…until he felt a warm arm around him, holding him close. The blonde watched as his brother tried to hold back his tears, suddenly furious that _anyone_ would dare to do this to his brother; his gentle, soft-hearted brother who _didn't deserve this_.

"They're not worth it." He whispered, stroking a hand soothingly down his brother's back, knowing his words were empty, because of course they meant _everything_.

"But we just _found_ them." His brother sniffed loudly, rubbing a hand across his eyes. The blonde had nothing to say to that, he could think of no words of comfort as that exact thought had been revolving around in his head ever since they had met the two strangers. Had they not felt it too? They must have felt the instinctual tug, the swelling of their hearts at their meeting…or perhaps it was just them. Perhaps the meeting had meant nothing to the other two, maybe they'd just met two freaks in the park one day and had run away as quickly as possible with no intention of returning…

As these thoughts slowly clouded the blonde's mind he found he couldn't speak round the lump in his throat to comfort his brother…so he simply held him; stroking his hair tenderly.

They stayed much longer that day, too drained to think about leaving yet; they only had an empty apartment to return to anyway. They watched as the park emptied steadily, parents ushering small children away from the playground, couples retiring home as the air grew colder, and slowly the sun set; the shadows stretching all around them. As the light finally faded their thoughts also took a darker route.

"That's it then." The brunette said; a strange smile on his face. The two brothers looked at each other, their eyes oddly blank, resignation coiling within them. With the disappearance of the two, the last hope of relief from their constant ache had vanished.

By the early hours of the morning they were sat on one of the many benches that littered the park, lent against each other, dozing slightly. It was becoming steadily harder to prize their eyes open each time they blinked, sleep gluing them together. Every now and again one of them would nod off for a few seconds before starting awake at the feel of the freezing metal beneath them. Huddling together to try and retain some body heat, they ended up perched insecurely on the too-small bench, arms and legs bent at uncomfortable, odd angles. They could barely see each other in the dim light, but both could feel the other's presence and the warmth radiating from them, this time though, they gained no comfort from it. They weren't enough…and maybe now they'd be forced to confront that.

"Sooo…do we get to know the names of our stalkers?" A deep, scratchy voice grunted from behind them. Both boys flinched so violently that the brunette lost his balance, knocking into the blonde who began to fall from his precarious position on the bench until an arm shot out, firmly holding him back, "Woah there blondie." The same voice said; slightly amused. Wrenching his arm away and stumbling to his feet, the blonde span around to come face to face with a person he never thought he'd see again and the only one where that mattered.

His hair was illuminated by the faint light of the morning turning the red spikes into a kaleidoscope of blazing colour, the downturned teardrops inked onto his cheeks standing out from his pale face but neither could distract from the piercing emerald eyes that were staring expectantly at them.

"Why, so you can report our-what was it?-stalker-asses?" the blonde couldn't help the biting response, the sound of his brother's sobs still fresh in his memory.

The redhead shifted uncomfortably and even had the grace to look slightly ashamed.

"Look you were the ones following _us_." When that received silence stares from both twins, he sighed impatiently dragging a hand through his hair. "Argh, this wasn't what we came here for." He muttered. It was then the twins noticed Riku stood behind the redhead, a slightly embarrassed look on his face, like he didn't really know what to do.

He quirked an eyebrow, startled, when the brunette moved immediately to stand in front of him holding out his hand, a grin on his face. Riku seemed to consider it for a second before straightening up and grasping the outstretched hand firmly.

"Riku." He said simply.

"Sora" Said the brunette.

"See, they're perfectly capable of acting civilly," the redhead murmured eying the blonde, perhaps wondering if he'd get hit if he tried to imitate the other two's introductions. He settled for putting his hands on his hips and declaring, "My name is Axel-an no, not like the car part- got it memorized?" He lent forward grinning at the blonde who snorted and folded his arms across his chest before mumbling something unintelligible.

"What was that sweetheart?" the redh-_Axel _asked. The blonde glared at him and said a little bit louder,

"Roxas."

Axel's grin grew even wider as he opened his mouth to reply-

"And it's _not_ Roxy _or_ Foxy or whatever the hell stupid nickname you're about to come up with." Roxas cut in before Axel even got a sound out. Axel, whose grin had now turned somewhat into a smirk,

"Well aren't you just a bundle of fun." Roxas rolled his eyes and huffed, but secretly he was repeating the name over and over in his mind, _Axel_, the name sounded delightfully familiar and he couldn't help the small smile that thought brought.

"Ahh so it _is_ capable of expressions other than pouting" This had the immediate effect of wiping the smile off Roxas' face.

"_I_ do not _pout_"

"Axel, are you fighting with him already?" Axel swivelled round to meet the exasperated look Riku was giving him.

Batting his eyes innocently he said, "Why me an Roxy were simp-ah, ah… _Roxas_…just let go of my arm...ah, ow." Roxas scowled and released the redhead's arm. Axel held the limb to his chest, rubbing at the sore spot and frowning.

"That's quite a temper you've got there." He mumbled sulkily.

"He's just happy to see you," piped up Sora. Roxas glared at his brother as he came to stand beside him. Sora took no notice however and his expression grew serious as he said, "We've been waiting for a long time."

Axel and Riku looked at one another deciding something silently.

"For what?" Riku asked turning back to the twins.

"People who understand." And they did. Both Riku and Axel offered a hand and the twins grasped them, safe in the knowledge that they would never let go.

* * *

Thankyou :)

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